Arthur and the Boy Who Wouldn't Bow
by freelikeafairy
Summary: 'Bow to your Crown Prince, you filthy lot' The head guard bellowed. The line of outlaws hastily shuffled some more to obey the order. All but one. One boy kept his head up and consequently his bright eyes caught Arthurs. The look on his face was determent, curious and even a little mocking. On top of all that, he had the most ridiculous ears.
1. Chapter I

Chapter I

A look of distaste contorted Arthur's features as he watched the line of newly captured criminals shuffle inside the court room. They looked ragged, with shifty eyes that showed fear, anger and sometimes even desperation.

'Bow to your Crown Prince, you filthy lot!' The head guard bellowed.

The line of outlaws hastily shuffled some more to obey the order.

All but one. One boy kept his head up and consequently his bright eyes caught Arthurs. The look on his face was determined, curious and even a little mocking. On top of all that, he had the most ridiculous ears. Awaken from his boredom, Arthur raised a surprised eyebrow at him. The boy remained upright. There was a kind of pride in his attitude that Arthur thought to be completely out of place, considering he was a captured criminal, surrendered to the good will of his crown prince.

The head guard noticed the boys disobedience and quickly stepped over to manhandle him into bowing his head. The boy allowed the man to force his head down, but with such a strong air of doing just that: allowing it, like he could overpower him at any moment, but was simply choosing not to. It baffled Arthur.

'What did that one do?' He demanded.

'He's suspected of having Magic, sire.' He answered. Well that explains the attitude, Arthur thought.

'Why is he in the same line as the pick pockets and chicken stealers?' He asked angrily. Usually the Magic-Users were dealt with with much more care and consideration.

'Well,' the guard shifted uneasily on his feet. 'He doesn't appear to be that dangerous, sire.'

'And on what did you base that conclusion?'

'His crime, sire,'

'Well, tell me what he did.' He demanded impatiently, exasperation sounding through his voice.

'He induced an unusually prosperous harvest, sire,'

'That's hardly proof of magic,'

'In the middle of winter, sire.' A rush of whispers went through the court room. Awed looks and mistrusting gazes were thrown in the boys direction.

'I see,' He took a second look at the boy: all long limbs and pointy edges, but within that skinny body apparently great power hid.

'And where was this?'

'Ealdor, sire,' The name caused a pang of guilt in his stomach. It was known for being terrorised by raiders and Arthur had been planning to do something about that for years. But there'd always been something more important, something more pressing that demanded his attention, so he'd done nothing. He could hardly blame the citizens of Ealdor for taking matters into their own hands, even if it was through the use of magic.

'So, crops in the middle of winter,' he muttered, more to himself than to anyone in the room. 'Hang on, it's the middle of spring, why did it take this long to capture him?' An embarrassed look crossed over the guard's features.

'He,' the guard cleared his throat, 'disappeared, sire,'

'You mean you couldn't find him,'

'No, I mean literarily, sire. We did find him, but then he —' the guard seemed to have great difficulty admitting what had happened. 'he just — disappeared. Right in front of our eyes, sire.' Another round of murmurs went through the room.

Arthur's eyes shot back to the boy. He was now curiously studying his surroundings, like he'd just wondered in here on is own volition, in stead of being a prisoner. And then it hit him: he had the power to disappear. He needn't ever be caught. He could disappear right now if he wanted to. But he didn't. He had the air of someone who chose to be here, because that was exactly the case. The idea that he was the prisoner and that they were in control was an absolute charade.

'Take them all away.' Arthur commanded abruptly. 'Except for him.' They made eye contact again. The boy cocked his head expectantly.

'As you wish, sire. What do you want me to do with them?'

'I don't see any reason not to give them the standard punishment for their crimes, I'll deal with their Sentence Scrolls later later,' I've got more important things to deal with right now, he mentally added.

'And the boy?' There was a good question. He bit his lower lip, they still hadn't broken eye contact. Arthur wanted to have him alone, half so he could yell at him for defying his authority like this and half to satisfy his curiosity and find out why he came here. But he needed to keep his father in mind. And the fact that the boy was officially speaking under arrest. And that the entire court was watching over his shoulder. He couldn't just start ordering suspected Magic–Users up to his rooms now could he?

'Sire?' the guard asked again.

**Author's Note**

So. Hey there (: You lovely reader you! Thank you so much for doing all that reading! It's an understatement to say that I am gut-wrenchingly-curious as to what you think so if you have a minute, drop me a line! It would give me all kinds of fuzzy feelings inside.

Also please note that these is un-beta-ed! There will be mistakes, probably. Even though I checked like a million times. I am flawed. There is a very wonderful person who has offered to beta this for me, but she's still working on it so when she's finished I'll replace this with the right thing, but I just suddenly became very excited to upload this so there you have it.

This brings me to my last point: the reason I got SO EXITED was because of this amazingly lovely, kittens flying over rainbows kind of person, who has this equally amazing blog on tumblr. She's called timeywimeyjam. I don't actually know her but I've been following her blog for a while now and she's my favourite person on tumblr. Today I dropped her all these little snippets of my story, to find out what she thought of it, and she was SO KIND and SO ENTHUSIASTIC! Which gave me a major confidence boost and made me want to show her the whole thing :)


	2. Chapter II

Chapter II

'Imprison him,' Arthur realised that it didn't matter where he put him, the boy was going to do whatever he wanted anyway.

This hypothesis was proven to be right when he entered his rooms that evening. The boy had made himself comfortable in Arthur's favourite chair by a roaring fire. He'd pulled his knees up to his chest and was sitting in it slightly sideways, not unlike a cat. The sight only caught him off guard a little bit.

'Gods! It's warm in here,' Arthur said casually. Silently announcing that it took a little more than showing up unexpectedly for him to lose his cool. The boy didn't look away from the fire, but smiled.

'Being in that cell chilled me to the bone,'

'I didn't expect you to actually sit in there,' Arthur stood behind the opposite chair. The boy tore his eyes away from the fire and looked at him, eyebrows slightly raised.

'You didn't?'

'No, I figured you'd use —' he waved his hand around in a vague gesture.

'— Magic?' The boy supplied helpfully, barely suppressing a grin.

They stared at each other for a moment, both equally assessing, equally expecting.

'Yes,' Arthur breathed. 'Magic.'

'That wouldn't have upset you?'

'You're worried about upsetting me?' Arthur asked incredulously, perhaps a little too fiercely. The boy turned towards the fire again. Arthur looked at him, puzzled. Powerful enough to command the seasons, to defy the laws of nature, defy the laws of physicality even, yet he seemed so harmless. Was it an act? Was he actually in great danger? Utterly confused Arthur opted for one of his favourite tactics: the direct approach.

'Are you here to kill me?'

The boy snapped his head up to look at him, Arthur's gaze was caught by his two great round eyes of surprise and disbelieve. His expression quickly morphed into a mixture of disappointment and pity, the way you might look at a slow learning child. And did he see that correctly? Was there a hint of bitterness?

Bitterness or not, Arthur did not at all like to be looked at as if he were a fool. He huffed indignantly and said with all authority he could muster: 'That is a perfectly reasonable question, I'll have you know!'

The boy only raised one eyebrow slightly. Arthur continued: 'The most powerful wizard I've ever heard of, is sitting in my bloody chambers — I have a right to know wether or not I should start considering my last words!'

'Don't torment your overprivileged little brain about it, I'm not here to kill you!' The boy's agitated words were accompanied by him getting out of the chair and walking towards the window sill, as far away from Arthur as he could get without leaving the room.

Arthur followed his movements, surprised into a stupor by what that gangly kid had the nerve to say to him. He spluttered indignantly. 'Little brain?! My brain is of perfectly ample size! You, you — you uneducated, insolent, unwashed speck of filth!' He professed to the back boy standing there with shoulders tense.

'Gods, if I had known you would turn out to be such a _prat_, I wouldn't have gone through so much trouble,' he muttered.

'If you're going to continue insulting me, please have the guts to at least do it to my face.' Arthur challenged. The boy turned around.

'You, Your Royal Highness, Crown Prince of Camelot, are a massive and utter PILLOCK! You're a spoilt little rich kid with — despite of being knighted — no sense of nobility or honour. You are arrogant and condescending. But worst of all, you are a prejudiced and narrow minded PRAT!' The mocking and disdain in his voice again robbed Arthur momentarily of his ability to speak. Giving the boy time to add: 'But it's not entirely your fault I guess, you have been raised by Uther...' He sighed wistfully, but it was lost on Arthur.

At the mention of his fathers name, a switch had flipped. He flew towards the boy, grabbed him by the collar and pushed him against the cold glass of the window. He lowered his mouth to the boys ear and in a deceivingly calm voice he spoke lowly and through gritted teeth: 'You do NOT speak of my father that way.' At that point he half expected to be sent flying across the room by a blast of magic. One does not accost such a powerful wizard without receiving a blow in return, right? But the boy did nothing of the sort, he merely struggled against Arthur's grip, stubbornly defiant. Physically he was no match for Arthur and he held him in this state of apparent powerlessness effortlessly. Confused, yet again, he leaned back and held the boy at an arms length, still clutching his tunic.

Their eyes met and it was him as if he saw him for the first time: a boy grown up in terrorised village, the struggle and the horror forcing him to grow up too young. A boy in possession of such powerful magic that it scared himself and the people around him, but with a character so honourable that he won't use it against people even when attacked. A lonely boy, driven into solitude by a secret he can't share. A boy looking for hope in Camelot, seeking out it's Crown Prince... And being disappointed by what he found.

Arthur slowly let go of the fabric tangled between his fingers, leaving the boy's tunic all rumpled. Arthurs eyes dropped down from the boys eyes to the mess his grip had caused and he absentmindedly attempted to smooth the stubborn creases, a gesture so accidentally tender it made the boy's eyes go wide and his mouth fall ever so slightly open. When Arthur reconnected their shared gaze, he realised what he was doing and let his arm drop lamely at his side. However too confused to be embarrassed he held their gaze and asked in a gentle voice:

'What's your name?'

The boy was sitting slumped against the window, his face angelically pale against the night sky, his eyes big and bright and impossibly blue. He looked so utterly lost. Perhaps it was caused by the guilt he felt for failing to protecting Ealdor, or because he'd somehow been a disappointment to this boy, but he suddenly felt overwhelmed by the most powerful urge to take care of him. To protect him. To make sure those eyes would never again see the horrors of the world.

'My name is Merlin. Merlin Emrys.'

'And why are you here, Merlin?'

The boy hesitated. A sadness filled his eyes.

'I don't know any more.' As soon as the words left his mouth, his eyes flashed golden. Arthurs breath got stuck in his throat as he witnessed how the window, previously the sole support behind Merlin's back, flew open and the skinny boy came tumbling down. A cry escaped Arthur's lips as he flew forwards, hoping to grab a hold of the boy and stop him from falling to his death. However, nothing but air slipped through his fingers and he leaned over the window sill to look down at the ground, where the boy inevitably would have landed. The darkness was too thick for his eyes to pierce so he couldn't see the proof of what had happened, but then again he didn't need it.

Just as a big wave of sadness and guilt crashed over him, a great red dragon flew passed his window into the night sky. On it's back he saw a figure, the unmistakable black haired and big eared head of the wizard boy turned towards him, apparently checking if Arthur had spotted him. He was hard to miss really, sitting on the back of a giant dragon and all. And then suddenly, a flash of gold, and they disappeared. Arthur stared at the spot of ink black where the dragon had vanished for quite a while. Would he ever see the boy again?


	3. Chapter III

**Author's Note**

Hello again! I wrote some more! Yay! I really hope I haven't ruined it o_o

**WARNING: **This chapter is a bit smutty so I changed the rating of this story. There's a bit of alcohol fueled fumbling going on so if you don't want to read that, STOP HERE! I think. Or you could just skip over that bit. I don't know. Do as you please :)

Chapter III

'The alleged magic-user has escaped.' Is all he told his father. No matter how fiercely Uther denied his disease, his hollow cheeks and sunken eyes were clear proof of his diminishing health. Arthur didn't want to burden him with anything but the strictly necessary and — haven taken over more and more of his father duties — he was now in a position in which he could.

'The boy appeared to be rather harmless though,' He added.

'There's no such thing as a harmless sorcerer,' his father corrected bitterly. 'You should now that by now, son.'

'Yes, father,' Arthur automatically agreed, bowing his head. 'All the guards have been alerted, also the ones in the lower town. They have instructions to arrest him on sight, father.' He carefully didn't mention how the boy escaped on the back of a dragon and could be anywhere by now.

'Very well then.' Uther let out a disgruntled sigh. His sickness had made him even more resentful against sorcerers. More paranoid also. Arthur did all he could to keep his father's measures within the reasonable, but his attempts were mildly effective at best. Uther had the court physician, a poised old man by the name of Gaius, who was already busy enough attending to the health of the entire court on his own, also investigating the possibilities of developing a kind of concoction that would temporarily or even irreversibly take away a sorcerers magic. Uther's additional task had the poor man looking almost as exhausted as the king himself.

Besides all his duties and responsibilities weighing heavily on his shoulders, Arthur also had problems of an entirely different kind. The sweaty–forehead–tangled–sheets–soiled–bedclothes–kind. To be fair: he was an eighteen year old boy. Man. Almost-man. And unlike the other almost-men he knew, he never indulged in fondling with the maids, or worse: taking a trip down to the brothels of the lower town. He was the crown prince. He just couldn't — wouldn't _do_ that.

But this was getting slightly out of hand. His erotic dreams were becoming more frequent and persistent and it was starting to interfere with his sleeping habits. He had now arrived at a point where he hadn't had a good night's sleep in over two months. To his great embarrassment he had started falling asleep during the day at the most inopportune of times; during important meetings; during banquets; he'd even fallen asleep during dinner with his father, landing face first in his roasted pheasant. Something had to change.

He didn't like to admit it to himself, but this "problem" was most likely the reason he suddenly found himself in the tavern that evening, a place he'd always persistently avoided. He'd halfheartedly attempted to go incognito by removing all the princely items from his person. Also — to the great enjoyment of them all — he'd asked the knights to call to him "Arty" for the night. This of course resulted in them using this temporary nick name as often as they possibly could, which in turn caused them to giggle in ways you wouldn't expect at all from Camelot's toughest fighters.

'Hey Arty, Arty, yeah. Can get you another, Arty?' Gwaine gave him his widest, cheekiest grin as he reached across the wooden table for Arthur's empty goblet. Percival was sitting next to him, unable to contain the laughter spluttering out from behind his hand.

'Yeah alright, but if you're doing it to make up for how I'm constantly being mocked, you better make it a whole bottle.' he answered.

'Coming right up, Arty!' Gwaine winked cheerfully, sending Percival into another fit of giggles.

Leon took pity on him. 'Alright alright, it's not _that _funny.'

'It! Is!' Hiccuped Percival between chuckles.

Arthur was regretting his decision to come here more every minute.

When Gwaine returned, it was not only with two bottles of wine but also with a whole host of girls in his wake. All round curves, red lips and blushing cheeks. Arthur was the only one who didn't perk up at the sight of them, but who even slumped further down on the wooden bench. That didn't deter the blond girl nearest to him though. She settled herself as close to him as she possibly could without actually crawling onto his lap and started twisting his blond locks around her fingers, whispering cheeky remarks into his ear. Gwaine had seated himself opposite of Arthur again and as their eyes met he wiggled his eyebrows suggestively at him. Arthur tried for a grin but it turned in to more of a grimace.

He couldn't possibly have been more uncomfortable. His friends were all goofing around (especially Gwaine) and showing off (again especially Gwaine), but he simply couldn't get himself to join their frivolous and lighthearted interactions. After a couple moments of stammering politely to the overenthusiastic blond girl, he mutteringly excused himself and fled outside.

Suddenly enveloped by the crisp night air he realised that his brain was a lot more fuzzy that it usually was. On uncertain feet he wondered over to a secluded alleyway and leant against the cool bricks for support. The alcohol flowing freely through his bloodstream was doing very little to reduce the size of his inflated libido. Closing his eyes, he took a few deep breaths and relished the feeling of the fresh air filling up his longs, providing him with some clarity. He stood there peacefully for a while until a baritone voice pulled him from his reverie.

'Didn't find what you were looking for in there?'

Arthur quickly opened his eyes to find a tall, dark, slightly scruffy looking man standing a few paces away from him.

'Excuse me?' he was shocked to hear that his voice sounded slightly slurred.

'A handsome young boy like you would've gotten plenty of female attention,' the man grinned conspiringly at him, 'yet you're standing out here, by yourself,' and took a step towards him.

Arthur's alcohol drenched brain came to the unsettling conclusion that he really didn't know what was going on or how to deal with it.

'Err...' he uttered intelligently.

The man's eyes were fixed on his and Arthur felt almost like he was being hypnotised. He hadn't even noticed how close the man had gotten until he spoke again and Arthur could feel his breath on his face.

'Could this be what you're looking for?' The strangers voice rasped. The next moment his lips forcibly took possession of Arthur's, while a hand wrapped itself around his clothed cock. Arthur gasped in surprise, giving the other man the opportunity to plunge his tongue inside Arthur's mouth.

Just as Arthur was ready to act on how the brain bit of himself felt about all this (indignant, repulsed, angry even), a more primal, much longer denied part decided that it actually really liked the way the dark haired man was now leisurely, deliberately stroking Arthur's rapidly hardening cock. Instead of words of protest, a low moan sounded from deep within. And instead of shoving him away from him, he shamelessly pushed his crotch into the man's hand. The stranger smiled against his lips.

'I thought you might like that,' his low voice vibrated.

In this drunken, aroused state Arthur did something he had never done before: he let go completely. He didn't even attempt to control the increasingly louder moans and groans escaping from his lips. Any rational thought had long since abandoned him. His system was overwhelmed by a sensory overload and all he could think was 'YES!' and 'MORE!'.

When suddenly, they were struck by flash of bright golden light, blasting the two of them apart. Arthur lost his already unsteady footing and ended up sitting slumped against the wall, while the stranger flew backwards and landed flatly on the ground, seemingly unconscious.

While Arthur was trying to comprehend what on earth had just happened, he heard rushing footsteps and then a vaguely familiar voice.

'Arthur! Gods! Are you hurt? Is it bad? I heard you crying out and then I saw how this man had overpowered you! I thought I was too late. Are you a complete cabbage head, by the way? Everybody knows bad things happen with strangers in deserted alleyways. Did he rob you? What where you even doing out here? Gods, all that education and still so utterly foolish. I'm surprised they even let you out of the castle. Idiot.' During his little rant Merlin sat squatted over him, putting his hands all over Arthur's body, pulling at his clothes: checking for injuries. Arthur just sat there limply, squinting at him.

'Merlin!?' Arthur stared disbelievingly at the pale, concerned face hovering in front of him. Merlin's inquisitive touches didn't at all have the innocent effect on Arthur with which they were intended. In fact, Arthur came to the conclusion that he actually really didn't mind this change in who was touching him. Merlin was much nicer to look at, and he smelled better too. If only Merlin's hands would go a little lower...

'You know, this would go a lot faster if you would tell me where you are hurt.' Merlin huffed irritably. 'How much wine did you drink?' Arthur wholly ignored this remark in favour of studying Merlin's lips, currently set in a determined line, but still most beautifully formed and so incredibly soft looking. Arthur found himself struck by an overwhelming curiosity as to what they felt like, tasted like. Apparently this urge to feel immediately translated into action, because he found that he was now slowly and deliberately stroking Merlin's bottom lip with the pad of his thumb.

Merlins ministrations fell still upon Arthur's touch and his eyes sought his.

'Arthur, what —' his voice suddenly breathless.

Want was still pulsing heavily through Arthurs veins, like a drug, drowning out all that usually formed Arthur's behaviour. No more sense of propriety, or politeness, or courtliness. He simply really wanted Merlin to be closer to him. Now. What did that stranger do again? The crushing of the lips thing?

Arthur's hand had been cradled around Merlin's jaw and cheek, to support his thumb–stroking–lip–action, but now abandoned this position in favour of sliding further back and wrapping itself easily around the back of the boy's slender neck. While stroking the sensitive skin there, Arthur pulled Merlin closer, until their foreheads touched.

The effect of Arthur's touch was plain to see on Merlin's face. All the worry and determination had vanished from his features. His face was open, questioning and impossibly beautiful.

'Are you even hurt at all?' Merlin whispered into the small space between their mouths, in a last attempt to regain control over the situation.

Arthur decided that the best answer to this was to close the gap between their mouths. Their lips melted together in a perfect fit that surprised them both. It was pure and uncompromised bliss. But there was still way too much space between their bodies for Arthur's liking, luckily he knew a way to fix that. He brought his free hand up to Merlin's tunic and pulled it towards him, tipping Merlin off balance and making him fall into Arthur's lap with a knee on each side. All this without disconnecting their lips. Arthur was quite pleased with himself.

Merlin gasped in surprise and Arthur used this opportunity to boldly slide his tongue into Merlin's mouth. Merlin's gasp turned into a moan as their tongues slid together, sending swirls of fiery lust curling through their stomachs. Merlin's hands found their way to each side of Arthur face, his long, delicate fingers running through his hair, pulling him closer, caressing his cheeks. Their kiss became more and more heated and Arthur's lower parts arrived at the conclusion that the pressure of Merlin's body weight was perfect for creating delicious friction.

Arthur's shallow thrusts and the feel of his hard cock against him, quickly turned Merlin on to the point of despair. But just as Arthur's hand traveling down his body was about to reach the spot where Merlin wanted it the most, something clicked inside him. The bubble burst. His sensible side kicked in.

'Arthur, stop!' He said, leaning back and panting slightly. 'We can't — we should stop.' Merlin got up.

Arthur looked confused and all together very unhappy about the loss of Merlin's closeness. A pout had formed on his lips, very much like the look of a petulant child. They stared at each other.

Merlin didn't seem to have it easy either. He was obviously fighting against the lust clouding his brain. He swallowed heavily and grabbed his forehead in a clarity seeking gesture.

'I should get you back to the castle.' He said, willing his words to sound determined, but not quite succeeding.

Arthur didn't even make the smallest attempt to get up.

'Don't make me use my magic,' Merlin threatened lamely. Arthur just raised his eyebrows at him.

'Oh for heaven's sake!' Merlin offered his hand to Arthur. 'Come on!' He helped Arthur get up, which Arthur immediately took advantage of by crowding Merlin's personal space and putting his arm around the boy's slim shoulders. Merlin meekly protested to this, but then begrudgingly allowed it. Together they stood and then both noticed the forgotten stranger who was still lying there unconsciously.

'He'll be alright,' Merlin said.

Arthur made an agreeing, humming sound and left it at that. He didn't want to think about the stranger any more. Especially not when Merlin was being so delightfully close.

How exactly they got home, Arthur couldn't remember. Maybe it was the alcohol, or maybe Merlin had done something magical. All he knew was that one moment they were walking, Arthur leaning quite heavily on Merlin, not out of necessity, but because he liked how the boy's skinny form fit against him, and the next moment he was standing in his chambers with Merlin giving him a seemingly very serious speech. Arthur was only half listening because all those words were coming from Merlin's lips, and Merlin's lips were simply very distracting. He seemed to notice that Arthur wasn't paying attention, because he huffed in annoyance and then suddenly, he was gone.

And Arthur was alone. Still drunk. With a sexual frustration that had only gotten worse. He crashed onto his luxurious bed with a groan and quickly dropped into another fitful sleep.

**Another Author's Note**

I'm actually a little embarrassed and insecure about writing the smutty stuff so please let me know if I've ruined it or not. Any feedback will be greatly appreciated! And to the ones who already wrote a review: thank you so much! I'm not even exaggerating when I say that my heart does a little skippy dance when I get a [ New Review ] email :)

Also a lot of thanks to all the people who added this story or me to their alert boxes or favourites! There are so many! WOW! Really, I'm so glad! THANK YOU!


	4. Chapter IV

**Author's Note**

SORRY THIS IS SO LATE! Life got in the way.

Also I think this might be the point in our relationship in which I confess to you that English isn't my first language — please feel very welcome to correct me on spelling or grammar mistakes! You would only be doing me a favour :)

About that: if there's anyone out there who would like to beta this, that would be amazing! I can offer you eternal gratitude and give you credit and such. I now have no one to talk to about possible plot developments or bits of dialog that I'm fighting with, so if you want to be that person: PM me! :) We'll see if we can work together. I'll warn you in advance: I'm a mess.

**Chapter IV**

The sensations of what had happened between Arthur and him haunted him vividly and feverishly as Merlin tried to find his way through the pitch black forest. Stumbling over surfacing roots and fighting with low hanging branches, he made it to the rickety cabin he had converted into his home. He collapsed onto his musty bed, panting and dizzy with too many feelings.

While he was with Arthur, the responsibility of having to look after him had somehow kept Merlin in check. Alright, except during the touching and kissing part. Things had got a bit out of hand there. But still. It was like he tucked away all the too–intense emotions for later so he could deal with the situation at hand in a rational manner.

It worked like a charm. Except that as soon as Arthur was safe and the responsibility of his life was temporarily lifted from Merlin's shoulders, those tucked away emotions came crashing over him all at once. Hijacking his entire system, taking his breath away and almost making him lose his grip on reality.

Fortunately, Merlin — being extraordinary wise for his seventeen years — had enough self–knowledge to know how to deal with these episodes. The best remedy, he'd discovered, was to give in to it and let it all wash over him. And so he did.

The throat constricting fear of being too late when he found Arthur in the alleyway and the blinding anger at his assailant were fierce but quickly washed away again. However, what continued to take control of Merlin's being was the lust and tenderness he'd felt in those brief moments with Arthur. They were almost terrifying in their intensity. Simply the memory of these sensations caused a tightening, tingling heat to form in Merlin's stomach. It almost felt as though the vulnerable connection they had momentarily allowed, had connected them to something much bigger, much more profound than simply their teenage attraction. It hadn't felt like it was just their bodies screaming 'YES!' at each other. Merlin had experienced it as though the entire universe had erupted into a celebration of the rightness of their moment.

He couldn't make sense of it. He wasn't even sure if he _liked_ the prince. I mean, he was gorgeous, obviously. But the majority of what came out of Arthur's mouth made Merlin want to push him out of a window. Why on earth would the universe be cheering that on?

Pulling him out of his thoughts, and supporting him through the waves of emotions still washing over him, came his faithful companion: a brown–greyishly furred and brightly green eyed puss by the name of Freya. She announced her presence by promptly leaping onto Merlin's stomach and settling herself down as if she owned that spot, purring contently. Merlin's hand came down to lazily scratch her over the head, eliciting slightly louder purrs.

It wasn't until several moments later that Merlin realised that Freya's increase of volume wasn't entirely, or perhaps at all caused by his casual petting. He startlingly recognised her meowing as a warning: someone was coming.

* * *

Okay, so Arthur was gay. He couldn't really say it was a surprise — his lack of interest in girls had always been silently professing it — but nearly getting off with two blokes in one night did put the whole being–gay–thing in a different perspective. He'd gone from not even consciously admitting to himself that he was attracted to men, to not only accepting it but _acting_ on it as well. Twice. First with that daring stranger and then with Merlin.

_Merlin._

Who he had just been dreaming about for the passed five hours. Merlin, impossibly insolent and honest, who just appeared and disappeared whenever it suited him. Who seemed to watch over him, like some kind of clumsy, sharp tongued, guardian angel. Oh, he certainly looked like an angel, Arthur sighed to himself. With his pale skin and impossible lips and _those eyes_, so blue and so open. The way he'd looked at Arthur in that first moment of tenderness, Arthur's thumb following the full curve of his lip, made him catch his breath whenever he remembered. There had been something so delicate and vulnerable, a hopefulness as fragile and translucent as the wings of a dragonfly.

In a world where everything seemed to revolve around strength and restriction, where the closest thing to tenderness he'd ever known was the firm clasp of his father's hand on his shoulder, he'd nearly forgotten what it was like to be open. Unguarded.

Merlin seemed to stand for all that was opposite. He was untamed, unfazed and uninhibited. Free in a way that Arthur had only ever had a glimpse of when he was a child. And all of that with an intention so honest and a hopeful that Arthur feared would only bring him disappointment and hurt. Seeing as the boy grew up in Ealdor, he must've already encountered this. But yet he was determent in his fragility. It frightened and fascinated Arthur in equal measures, but most of all made him crave to see him again.

* * *

The next time Arthur saw him wasn't really how he'd imaged though...

Yes — Merlin was standing once again in his chambers, which was exiting and annoyingly forward of him but that alone wouldn't have put him in such a cranky mood. It was the man he'd brought with him, whom he was advocating so shamelessly.

The horribly good looking man. Judging by how close they were standing and how casually Merlin had put his hand on the man's back to urge him towards Arthur while introducing him, they were rather close. The way Merlin was professing a seemingly endless stream of phrase about him didn't help either. How dare he tell Arthur who he should take as a knight? After hearing all about his 'superb fighting skills' and 'purer than gold character' he simply couldn't stand it.

'Enough!' He spoke in his best authoritative voice. 'Please, what was your name again?' He sought the man's eyes.

'It's Lancelot, sire.' the man spoke with such dignity and kindheartedness it was nearly ridiculous.

'Right. Yes. Lancelot, if you wouldn't mind, I would very much like to speak to Merlin alone for a few moments.' His forced politeness didn't go unnoticed.

The man nodded. 'Of course, sire,' and he made his way out the door. Merlin looked at Arthur hesitantly, expectantly.

'Merlin,' he sighed, trying not to let his irritation sound through too heavily. 'What were you thinking?'

'I'm simply trying to help you. Lancelot would make such a great knight!'

'You know very well that only those who are of noble blood can have the honour of becoming a knight! Why are you even offering your help? Do I seem so incompetent to you, _Mer_lin?'

'Gods! It's not all about you, your royal arrogance!'

'— You can't _say _things like that to me!'

'Lancelot was born to be a knight! He is made for this! Just as you were made to be king, he was made for _this_!'

'I have never met anyone as sappy as you, Merlin.'

'Just listen to me: you will never meet anyone as worthy of being a knight as Lancelot. It's like whoever wrote the knight's code had him in mind when writing it! He's the personification of honour and nobility!'

'Would you just stop! Stop it! All this raving on about your _boyfriend_ — it's not going to change anything: Lancelot can't become a knight, not now, not ever. There are rules.'

'Well, the rules are stupid!'

'You're _such _a child! What did you expect? That you could just come in here and persuade me to completely disregard policies that have been followed for generations?'

'— I expected you to recognise talent when it's standing right in front of you!'

Their eyes met, assessing, finding an equal stubbornness.

'How did you even get in here?' Arthur knew the answer but he wanted to see the caught look in Merlin's eyes.

'I — ehm...'

'Just, please, don't let anyone see anything.' Arthur conceded somewhat bitterly.

'I'm not an idiot!'

'— could've fooled me.'

'And anyway, you didn't seem that bothered by my magic that night, when I was saving your drunk arse!'

'Again with the language!'

'Heaven knows what would've happened if I hadn't intervened!'

'Oh please, I wasn't actually in danger!'

Arthur regretted his words the second they left his mouth. The puzzled look on Merlin's face was almost comical.

'What do you mean?'

'Ehm...'

Merlin watched with increasing confusion how bright pink spots of embarrassment appeared high on Arthur's cheeks. His eyes darted about the room and his hands suddenly wouldn't leave the hem of his tunic alone.

'Arthur? What do you mean: "I wasn't in danger!"?' Merlin asked slowly.

He didn't answer.

'You were crying out, I heard you. That man had you overpowered — you do remember, right?'

Still no reply.

'You weren't hurt, whatever was going on couldn't have been that bad.' Merlin cast another quizzical look towards Arthur. 'Are you just being too proud to admit that I saved you?'

'Merlin —' Sounded Arthur's strangled, pleading voice.

'Well then _what_?' Merlin was becoming impatient. 'Tell me, Arthur! What was happening? You were standing in the alley, with that dark haired man. _Something _was going on.' Merlin was gesturing wildly to illustrate his story, trying to get through to Arthur.

All Arthur could manage was to nervously fidget with his rings, while a hot flush crept it's way up from under his collar.

'Come on Arthur! _Tell me what happened!_'

Their eyes met, Arthur's mortification was written all over his face. Merlin stared at him for a few long moments. Then the penny dropped and he looked away.

'You were crying out,' He said softly, mostly to himself. 'And he was pushing you up against the wall.' Merlin replayed the whole scenario within his new found context. 'Afterwards you weren't hurt anywhere, but you were...' He looked at Arthur again, eyes wide.

Suddenly breathless he asked: 'That man was your lover?'

'No!' Arthur finally blurted out. 'He was just a stranger!'

'A stranger!' Merlin's voice went from disbelieving to disgusted. 'Is that what you do? Get off with strangers in alleyways? Classy!'

'No! I never — well I did then, but it was an exception!' Arthur thought he couldn't possibly feel worse.

'And then I interrupted you two. I knocked him out! And you were still —' Merlin looked at him, mind reeling. 'You were still — and I was there ... That's why you... And I...'

Arthur was wrong: the hurt in Merlin's eyes made him feel ten times worse.

'Merlin, please, let me explain.'

'Alright!' Merlin yelled, clearly upset. 'Explain away!'

'I was frustrated! — couldn't even sleep because of it — and then there was that man — he just grabbed me! I didn't — it wasn't planned or anything — and I couldn't think any more —' Arthur pleaded.

'And when you didn't find relief with him, you tried to find it with me.' Merlin finished bitterly. 'Really Arthur, I'm pretty sure I understand.'

He turned towards the door but Arthur was quicker: he grabbed Merlin's arm and forced himself to overcome his guilt and look Merlin in the eye.

'You're not like that stranger to me, Merlin.' His voice was low and serious. He tried to find more words, words that could express how Merlin puzzled him, how he was on his mind constantly, how he had yearned to meet him again, but he found nothing. And it wasn't enough.

'Yeah? Well maybe I aught to be.' he shrugged Arthur's hand off of him and made his way out the door. Lancelot was there, waiting patiently, still hopeful of becoming a knight. That faded quickly once he saw the look on Merlin's face. He rushed towards Merlin, concerned, his own disappointment forgotten in favour of comforting his friend. Arthur witnessed from the doorway how Lancelot put his hand on Merlin's shoulder, he loathed it. He wanted that to be _his _hand.

'What — ?' Lancelot began to ask.

'— Let's just go,' Merlin pulled them into an alcove. A bright flash followed and Arthur knew they were gone.

**Author's Note**

YES! Lancelot makes an entry! I love Lancelot. Who doesn't love Lancelot? NO ONE! That's who! Accept maybe jealous Arthur.

So. Yes. I hope you liked reading this :) feel free to share any thoughts or feelings with me. I love it when you do that thing that makes me read the words you write.

I feel like there was something else I was going to say, but I forgot...


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